


"I can explain."

by military_bluebells



Series: First Meetings [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/military_bluebells/pseuds/military_bluebells
Summary: He paced down the hallway to the kitchen and hit the light switch.And met the eyes of someone hedefinitelydidn’t know.
Relationships: Nate Fick & Ray Person
Series: First Meetings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699477
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	"I can explain."

His clock flashed a red 2:01 at the corner of his desk. Nate sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, blinking his eyes to keep them open. He glanced down at his notes, a jumbled mess of words and letters, baring no resemblance to his normal writing. 

Despite what Mike might say, Nate did know when to stop. 

He shuffled his papers into a neat pile, pushing them to the side of his desk. He stretched, feeling and hearing the bones in his spine click. Perhaps he should take Rudy up on his offer to join his yoga class. 

Whatever tiredness that'd threatened to end his study session an hour ago had faded, leaving him too wired to sleep. He looked back down at his notes and textbook; the words blurred together. 

No more studying then. 

He pushed his chair back and stood, stretching his back again. He could practically picture Rudy’s worried frown. Nate sighed again and made for the kitchen. Some chamomile tea should relax him enough to sleep until his alarm at seven. Morning classes hadn't been as good idea as Nate had first thought, though it did leave him the afternoon to work. 

The hallway was dark, but Nate wasn’t surprised. It was Pappy’s birthday soon, so Rudy, Mike and Doc had taken him out drinking. They were going back to another house; someone Nate didn’t know. Kopper or Krock or something similar. He paced down the hallway to the kitchen and hit the light switch. 

And met the eyes of someone he _definitely_ didn’t know. 

They stared at each other in silence. The intruder, around his age or younger, was sat on the floor. With an open jar of Nutella in his hand and chocolate around his mouth. They didn’t own Nutella, Rudy would have frowned and thrown it out. The spoon however, Nate recognised from a flowery set someone bought Mike as a joke. 

“I can explain.” The intruder said, not breaking eye contact. Their eyes were a dark brown, almost black in the kitchen light. Nate rose an eyebrow as his eyes latched onto a drop of blood sliding down the stranger’s face, just past the front of their ear. 

His eyebrow arched higher at the stranger. 

“No, I can’t…” the stranger said sheepishly, shrugging, before spooning more Nutella into his mouth. 

“Are you supposed to eat it like that?” slipped out of Nate’s mouth before he could think. 

The stranger snorted, tipping forward to laugh around his, Mike’s spoon. He swallowed, opening his mouth unreasonably wide; Nate could see his mouth was coated with chocolate spread. 

“Seriously, that’s the first thing you ask?” 

Nate rolled his eyes, “I just wasn’t aware that it was socially acceptable to eat Nutella straight from the jar.” 

The stranger laughed again, “Homes, I do what I want.” 

Nate hummed, eyeing the stranger as he walked towards the mug cupboard. He had to admit, the stranger was quite attractive, with dimples and wide eyes. Sleep deprivation, Nate reminded himself, he wasn’t thinking properly. 

“Should I be worried about the blood?” Nate asked, to distract himself from the stranger’s face. 

“What blood?” The stranger responded, scrunching his eyebrows up. 

“The blood dripping down the side of your face.” 

The stranger lifted his hand up and wiped the side of his face. He pulled the hand back down and blinked at it, like he’d never seen it before. There was a fairly large trail of blood on the back of his palm. “Huh,” he muttered, “Didn’t notice that, does explain the headache though.” 

Nate stared at the man. “Do you need some help?” he asked after several awkward seconds. 

The guy blinked before smiling widely and cooing, “Aww, I think you’re the cutest person I’ve ever met, not just because of your face. But seriously homes, shouldn’t you have called the police or kicked me out by now?” 

Nate shrugged: he didn’t actually know why he hadn’t done that, there was just something about the guy that put Nate at ease. “If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it, and you wouldn’t be sitting on my kitchen floor with chocolate spread all over your face.” 

“Hey!” the stranger squawked, “I could be a dangerous criminal, hell bent on stealing all your worldly possessions.” 

Nate had to bite back a laugh at the indignant face. “Since I’m a college student, there isn’t a lot for you to steal, apart from the expensive coffee my roommate buys.” The stranger hummed sympathetically around Mike’s spoon. 

Nate edged over to the cupboard and lifted out a mug. He could feel the man’s eyes following his movements, goose bumps breaking out over his skin. He couldn’t place why though: it wasn’t fear. He continued around the kitchen, fixing his tea. He hovered by the countertop, making sure that he wasn’t boxed in and could clearly see the man. The stranger had been right, he could be a criminal, despite his relaxed posture and non-threatening air. Nate sipped his tea in silence, 

“You can sit on a stool you know,” 

“Honestly homes, I don’t think I can get up. My head feels like crap.” 

Nate hummed and decided, off the cuff, to slide down the cupboards next to the guy. He still left a good half an arm between them: he hadn’t lost all of his sense. 

“It’s Nate, not homes.” He said. 

The guy grinned, “Well, Nate the Disney Prince, I’m Ray and I promise,” Ray pressed a hand to his chest, pulling what was probably supposed to be a sincere expression, “I’m not here to murder you and dump your body in a ditch. Boy Scout's honour.” 

Nate narrowed his eyes, “Firstly, I doubt you were ever a boy scout and secondly, that leaves a lot of other illegal options open.” 

Ray laughed, “Let me guess, future lawyer.” “While I've taken a class in the fine art of half-truths, I’m not planning on being a lawyer.” 

“Politician.” Ray said with confidence around another spoonful. Nate rolled his eyes and didn’t offer an answer. Ray cheered anyway, like Nate’s silence was an actual response. Which it _might_ have been. 

“You’re too pretty not to be on TV, I’d _happily_ vote for you.” 

Nate couldn’t stop a laugh as Ray pulled a faux seductive face. He stifled it quickly as another bead of blood trailed from Ray’s jaw onto his black jacket. 

“We need to look at your head.” Nate said. Ray didn’t comment as Nate went to find his first aid kit and opened it out across the floor. “Where does it hurt?” 

Ray huffed but relented, “Side of my head.” 

Nate nodded and found a pair of gloves out of the kit. Doc kept it well stocked, especially after Nate had scraped the whole of his calf during a cycling accident. He found a cotton swab and poured some water onto it from the tap. 

Ray tilted his head to the side, letting Nate run his fingers through his hair to find the wound. It didn’t look too deep or wide, but the hair was clumped together with drying blood. Carefully, keeping half an eye on Ray’s face, Nate cleaned the wound and applied antiseptic cream to it. Ray winced but didn’t make a sound. 

“How did you get into the apartment?” 

“Spare key in the potted plant.” 

Nate rose an eyebrow, “How did you know it was in the plant?” 

“My friend told me.” 

Nate blinked for a second. “Your friend told you?” 

Ray nodded, “Yeah, Rudy, big jacked fucker, fruity looking.” 

Nate blinked again, “You know Rudy?” 

Ray blinked back at Nate, “Yeah, we know each other through mutual friends and shit.” 

Nate huffed, “Small world,” he muttered, gathering the stuff back into the first aid kit. “Why did you come here?” 

Ray sighed, looking sheepish again, “Was going home with a girl from the bar, busty with curly hair, but I don’t know, there was something about her that didn’t feel right you know. But I went with it ‘cus,” he shrugged, “Chick says we’re almost there and leads me into an alley which sets off all these alarm bells off. I go to back away and then I’m hit on the head with something.” 

Nate stopped what he was doing and looked at Ray, who for the first time that night, looked unsure and self-conscious, staring at the tiled floor. 

“I fight back, I’m not a fucking pussy and get back onto the street. I just sprint then, as far and fast as I can, ended up about a block from here before I remember Rudy saying we could always go to his, if we were in trouble you know.” Ray twisted his hands. Nate nodded, that sounded like something Rudy would say. 

“That doesn’t explain the Nutella.” Nate said, not wanting to push Ray. 

Ray laughed, face cracking into a bright grin, “Pappy keeps a stash underneath the sink.” 

“He didn’t tell me.” Nate said, feeling a little perturbed that Ray, who didn’t live in their house, knew more about it than Nate. Ray looked back at him, somehow understanding what was going through Nate’s head. 

“Chill homes, he probably just didn’t want everyone stealing from his stash, plus Rudy’s more likely to find out the more people who know. Pappy takes his sugar supply seriously.” 

Nate huffed a laugh before nodding. He looked around and spied the clock on the wall. Ten past three. He looked back at Ray, noticing that his hands were shaking just a little, and he looked weary around the eyes. 

“I can make the couch up,” Nate offered, “if you don’t want to go home.” 

Ray looked up from where he’d been picking at his nails, “Nah… it’s fine, I’ll just,” Ray gestured to the door. Nate would have just accepted that, but Ray looked pale and his eyes were a little too wide. 

“You can sleep in my room if you don’t want to be alone.” 

Ray blinked. “Homes, you don’t even know me.” 

Nate shrugged, smiling slightly, “If Pappy trusts you with the whereabouts of his sugar stash, I’m assured that you won’t kill me in my sleep.” 

Ray huffed, suddenly looking younger as he stared up at Nate. Silence spread between them as Nate waited for Ray to answer. He seemed to debate with himself before giving Nate a one shouldered shrug, looking awkward. 

“I’d appreciate it homes,” he said quietly, looking away from Nate. 

Nate nodded and stood, pacing back to his bedroom. He found some spare bedding and spread it on an old camping bedroll. Ray appeared in the doorway, hovering restlessly outside the room. Nate waved him in and watched Ray’s socked feet - the left one had a medium sized hole in it - as they carefully paced in. He stood awkwardly by Nate’s bed as Nate pulled back, gesturing to the ‘bed’. 

“It might not be the most comfortable.” Nate said apologetically. 

Ray snorted, “Homes, I was expecting to be sleeping in a jail cell, this is infinitely better.” 

Nate smiled and sat on his bed, pulling off his socks and t-shirt. When his head came back up, Ray was staring at him, eyebrows set high and eyes wide. Nate rose a confused eyebrow, and Ray looked away. Nate could have sworn Ray’s cheeks went a little flushed, but he couldn’t be sure. 

He grabbed the t-shirt he was sleeping in and pulled it over his head. He looked up and blinked. 

Ray’s black jacket had disappeared, and his t-shirt was rucked up as he pulled it over his head. There were several patches of dark ink decorating Ray’s arms and chest, the most noticeable being the two black stars, set just have above brown nipples. Nate'd never had a specific thing for tattoos, sometimes they looked nice and sometimes they were a sign of poor decision making. 

Ray’s tattoos were definitely part of the former. 

He pulled his eyes away before Ray could catch him staring and lifted the sheets over his chest. He gazed up at the ceiling as he listened to Ray shuffle around. Eventually Ray settled down, and the last light, his desk lamp, went off. 

“Thanks Nate.” Ray said quietly sometime after. 

Nate smiled into the darkness, “No problem Ray.”

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt from my friend Seth,  
> Dragonsophie:  
> Person A suffers from insomnia. Upon failing to sleep for yet another night, they enter the kitchen at 2 am to make themselves chamomile tea/ hot milk/ Ovaltine. Person B is a complete stranger, bleeding from a head wound and dressed in all black, sitting on A’s kitchen floor and eating Nutella from the jar. It isn’t A’s Nutella. A doesn’t eat Nutella. It is however, A’s kitchen and A’s teaspoon.
> 
> B: I can explain.  
> A:  
> B:  
> A:  
> B: …no, I can’t. 
> 
> If someone can find the original source, I would be very grateful as I want to credit them properly.


End file.
